


Let's find El Dorado

by Hatchered



Series: Gold digging douchebags [1]
Category: Band of Brothers, The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5210009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchered/pseuds/Hatchered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two frauds on the streets of Seville end up finding a map leading to the City of Gold...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flying dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miserableboyfriends (hillbillied)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillbillied/gifts).



> Right, so basically this is just me writing Malarkey and Skip as Tulio and Miguel. It's not 100% canon to anything, because I've put my own twist on it to make it work with what I wanted to do. Also, this is basically mainly written for Ed, because this is kind of a birthday present to him, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BAE!!
> 
> Also this is absolute garbage, so I'm really, really sorry about that!

The dust was dancing in the air, kicked up by the footsteps of people and hooves of horses and cattle, never left more than a moment to rest upon the dry ground, before it was once again torn back up. 

It was suffocating, the way it flurried in the air and dragged into his lungs with every breath, drying his tongue and lips in an uncomfortable manner, in a way he had never experienced during his childhood in the north. 

Eyes flickered over the city gates, his hands adjusting the small pack he carried before he passed through after pressing a small coin in the hand of a guard. There was relief in the lack of trouble, in that the guard didn't even give him a second look as he pass under the walls of stone, the shadow momentarily cooling his warm skin. 

He doubted there would ever be a way he would ever get used to it, the change in temperature from the north to the south. He had always thought Castile to be hot, the temperatures in summers making the men working the fields sweat floods under the burning sun, but in comparison to Seville, that had so far felt like nothing. But, perhaps, that was only because he had been traipsing along dirt roads in the burning heat for the past week, without much shadow to hide in when the Siesta had hit. 

Taking a moment to stop by a trough holding water for horses chained to a wooden railing, he started brushing the dust off his clothes before he set his pack down to be able to gain access to the water and wash his face and hair. He could barely even remember the last time he had been able to do such a thing, to wash the dirt of the road off of himself and get the dust out of his hair. Hair that had been looking almost brown for the past few days, rather than the dull copper colour it originally had. 

“It's understandable that you're not from these parts. Because anyone else would know better than to leave their possessions unattended.” The voice caught him by surprise, head half submerged in the cool water as he had been scrubbing the dirt out of his hair, and as he straightened, the water was sent running down his back in cool tendrils, soaking through his shirt. 

Eyes quickly found the man who had spoken, stood a short distance away holding his pack in one hand, which a wide grin was spread across his lips. _He looked too comfortable, and Malarkey didn't like it._

“Give that back.” Taking a step forward, he stretched a hand out for the dusty pack, expecting the man to hand it back. _It was what any honest person back in Castile would have done. Even though Malarkey wasn't exactly **honest** himself. _

“Why? I think it looks like something I can have a use for.” The man shot him another wide grin as he slung the pack over one shoulder. “Besides, I don't see a reason why I can't take it. You look like you'll be able to get around anyway.” There was a gesture towards his appearance, and that was all Malarkey needed to snap. 

“Don't pretend you know anything about me.” His voice was nothing but a low growl as he took another step forward, hands curling into fists by his sides as he squared up. “Now, give me my things back. I'm not here to fight.”

There was a moment's silence as the other studied him closely, eyes shifting over his appearance, smile faltering slightly before he spoke. 

“I'd love to do that, but, no, I don't think I will.” Turning on his heel, Skip was on his way within seconds, breaking into a run as he started zigzagging through the people crowding the streets. He barely needed to throw a look over his shoulder to know the other was behind, the sounds of people protesting as they were pushed aside telling him enough. 

Taking a sharp turn, he started down a new street, less crowded this time, but instead filled with barrels and ropes set to be loaded onto the waiting ships in the harbour. He had used the street as an escape many times and knew exactly how to navigate as to not to get stuck somewhere, but he doubted the other knew the same, clearly being new to Seville and its cobbled streets. 

And, so, it was therefore a surprise as he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pushed to the ground, his fall eased by a pile of tangled rope that kept him from smashing his face against the stones. 

He barely even noticed as the pack was pulled from his shoulder, slightly shocked by the sudden stop, and it was not until he was pulled from the ground that he was snapped back to attention. 

“You clearly know _nothing_ about me.” The redhead's eyes carried a look of contempt as he helped him stabilise, a hand gripping his shoulder to keep him steady. “If you had, you would have known that I'm familiar with most escape tactics.” There was the hint of a smile as he drew a deep breath to calm his beating heart, the adrenaline from the chase still pumping in his blood. 

“I clearly don't.” Shrugging the other's hand off, Skip eyed the other again, his previously cocky demeanour suddenly replaced with wonder. _No one had ever caught him before._ “And I'm impressed. No one has done what you just did before.” 

“Well, they did call me a master schemer back home, so I guess the old tactics are still as fresh as when I used to steal trinkets on the street.” A wide grin slipped across Malarkey's lips at the memory of happier days, and before he had even had the time to think, he had his hand extended. “Malarkey. Don Malarkey.” 

Eyes fell to the hand, almost as if expecting it to turn into something venomous that'd bite him, before it was taken and given a quick shake, Skip's own smile returning with the action. 

“Skip. Skip Muck.”


	2. Loaded dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two schemers use loaded dice to win themselves some gold...

The crowd on the street was gathered closely, circling around the event taking place like vultures circling their prey, eyes never leaving the small pile of gold coins resting on the cobbles. The Spaniards had always been crazy about their gold, and seeing the amount there was, glimmering lazily in the warm sunlight, was enough to make anyone stop and look. 

“Seven!” A pair of dice rattled against the stones, adding up to seven in front of the marvelling eyes of the gathered audience. “And that is a victory for me and my partner here again.” A wide smile flickered across Malarkey's lips as he crouched down and started gathering up the gold, a waiting pouch already in hand and ready to be filled. 

“It's so much. We will live well on this.” Skip's voice rung out beside him, the other picking up the dice, ignoring the slight annoyance of the men who had just lost their savings to them. 

“We won't need to starve tonight, that's for sure.” 

“Not that we've been starving before.” 

“Shut up, Skip.” 

Their murmured conversation was interrupted by another voice cutting in, a hand stretching out to stop the gold from vanishing out of sight all too quickly, and instead a piece of parchment was waved in front of their eyes. 

“Not so fast, boys. I have something else to bet.” The pair's eyes quickly shifted, taking in the man they had been playing and the roll of parchment clutched in his hand. _A hand that surely could have crushed both of their skulls._

“You're betting that? Against all this gold?” Straightening from his crouched position, Malarkey let out a confident chuckle. “Do you really believe we'll take that? It's just a piece of parchment.”

“You're wrong there. This isn't any piece of parchment. This is a map. To El Dorado.” The man's words caused low murmurs to erupt in the crowd, the legendary place rumoured to lay across the ocean was something most had dreamt of finding at least once since the discovery of the New World. 

“A map, you say? To El Dorado...” Skip's voice trailed off at the end, his eyes fixating on the rolled up map for a moment, before he snatched it out of the man's hand to take a look. “Hm...” The drawn figures and landmarks, showing a clear trail to what the map had marked as its El Dorado caused a wide grin to slip across the man's lips, his eyes shifting over to Malarkey before he nodded to himself. “Mal, imagine this. Us finding El Dorado. We'll practically be **gods**.” 

A deep sigh slipped from Malarkey's lips, well aware that his companion was already hooked on the idea of the mythological city of gold, and that there wasn't much he'd be able to do to talk him out of it. They had known each other for 3 years, and he had learnt right from the beginning that Skip wasn't someone who took no for an answer.

“Skip, there's hundreds of maps like this one, and they're all fake. No one knows whether El Dorado exist or not.” Snaking an arm around his friend's shoulders, he gave them a quick squeeze before he pulled away and took the map from his hands. “It's not worth it.”

“But what if it was real. You've always said you want to leave Spain and go look for gold. This is your chance.” _Malarkey didn't even need to look to know Skip was giving him his best pleading look._

“Fine...” Rolling the map back up, he dropped it on the pile of gold, his pair of dice already ready for the throw. “Your map for our gold.” _It was the most painful thing he had ever spoken._

The challenging man shot them a wide grin, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes for a moment before he spoke. 

“Good. However, this time, we're using my dice.” A pair of new dice was presented, and for a short moment, he saw the redhead's confidence fall before there was a reply. 

“Your dice..? Very well.” A murderous glance was thrown in Skip's direction, the other man hanging back with the crowd to watch from a safe distance. He knew that the dice they had been playing with before had been loaded, making the pair win each time no matter what, and them playing with a new pair was _bound_ to end badly. They were cheaters, not professional dice players. 

The crowd fell silent the moment Malarkey threw the new pair of dice, the call of “Show me seven” slipping from his lips as his mind sent off a quick pleading prayer that he, for once, wouldn't be unlucky. 

“I can't believe it!” The betting man's outburst was what made him dare to look at where the dice had landed, and find a total of seven black dots glaring back up at him, a sight he hadn't thought even possible. 

“Malarkey, we won! We won!” Skip's had thumping against his back was what pulled him back to reality, and with it a wide grin spread across his lips as he started to reach for the waiting gold – and the map to El Dorado. 

Had the loaded dice in his pocket not decided to betray them at that moment, they would have gotten away with the quarry. 

Within seconds the happiness changed for insecurity and fear as the man that they had been playing stared at the dice, testing their weight and rolling them time and time again to reveal that seven was the only number they were capable of producing. 

“These dice are loaded! They're cheating!” The man's call echoed among the houses, and suddenly the crowd no longer felt as friendly and interested as it had minutes before. Now, it was threatening instead. 

_And Malarkey went to plan B within seconds..._

“Loaded dice? You gave me _loaded dice_?” His eyes shifted to Skip in a moment, as he scooped the mentioned dice off the ground and clenched his fist around them. “I can't believe you'd do such a thing after what I've been through!” 

“You're accusing _me_ of giving _you_ loaded dice? This is an outrage!” Skip caught on directly, his shocked face almost convincing enough to fool Malarkey, despite that he had been the one to work out the plan in the first place. “And don't start with your tragic backstory again! At least you had a home to begin with.” 

There was an offended intake of breath from Malarkey, at the same time as two guards, summoned by the sudden raised voices, stepped into the circle.

“Well, then you at least didn't have a home to _miss_ , had you been driven out of yours like I was. All I have now is a bullshit key that I can't use for anything else.” His hand patted his chest, where the mentioned key hung from a thick string of leather around his neck. “Your pagan gods were not as disliked as our religion has been for centuries!” 

“How _dare_ you insult them like that? They _like_ being disliked! That is what they're here for!” There was a glint of amusement in Skip's eyes, if so only for a moment, before he pulled one of the guards' rapier from its sheath. “You will die for this, you _dog._ You should henceforth be known as _Mabarkey_.” 

_It took every ounce of self control Malarkey had not to laugh._

“Not if I kill you first!” His hand gripped the second rapier, the needle-thin tip turning towards Skip's chest as the two of them started to circle each other, causing the crowd to back away and thin up – just like they knew it would. 

“Then you will have to catch me first!” Skip was off within seconds, the rapier dropped to the ground as he broke through the crowd and set off down the street, followed closely by Malarkey and the guards – who had finally broken out of their momentary shock and who were now eager to catch the men attempting to flee. 

But Skip and Malarkey had been playing the game for years, travelled far and wide across Spain, and Seville had been their starting ground, and it was the town they knew the best, its winding streets ones they could navigate blindfolded. 

Taking a turn onto another street, they zigzagged through the crowd, staying close enough to each other to be able to still stick together, but as far away as they could to still confuse the guards – who had added a handful more to their party. 

Malarkey didn't even blink as he followed down the length of the harbour, and took the leap into a waiting trunk stood abandoned in the sunshine. Ignoring the tight fit, they quickly pulled the lid shut and settled down, listening to the guards thundering past. 

Neither was barely allowed to draw a breath of the salty air, before the chest moved, the feeling of being elevated and transported something neither had felt before, and it only took them seconds to realise what was happening. 

“We wait for a few minutes, and then we get out, okay?” Keeping his voice low, Malarkey pressed his eye to the keyhole, watching as the deck of a ship came up to meet them, the impact causing them both to grown silently. 

“Sounds good.” Giving his friend a thumbs up, Skip settled back, trying to ignore how his legs was cramping uncomfortably in the small space. 

_It would have been a good idea, had they not forgotten about the leaving armada, headed for the New World._


	3. All fun end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go exactly as planned, as the schemers are caught and a dog makes the duo into a trio...

“Have I ever told you, properly, what happened all those years ago back in Castile?” Malarkey's voice was tired, his appearance dishevelled as he leaned against the wood making up the side of the ship, eyes shifting up through the bars revealing the night sky above. 

“I don't think you have, no. Just like I haven't told you everything about where I'm from.” Skip's voice came from the opposite side of the cell, voice tired and low to avoid being shouted at by any of the guards.

“Is that really that interesting, though?” Despite the general misery of the situation, Malarkey's voice carried a hint of a teasing tone as he adjusted his position, trying to get the boards to stop digging into his back. 

“Maybe not.” Shrugging, Skip cleared his throat, the dryness of it making his voice hoarse and low. He could barely even remember the taste of fresh water or wine, despite that the guard had allowed them a drink only a few hours prior. 

Their endeavour of escaping unseen from the ship they had ended up on, had not been something that had ended good for either of them. As they had lifted the lid of the trunk to sneak back to dry land, they had found at sea, surrounded by the men working the ship without a way back to land. 

It had been obvious, the moment the threatening form of the commander had emerged, voice proclaiming their punishment for hiding and then commanding their imprisonment in the small cell the ship contained. 

_Skip was certain it was eventually intended for the natives they were to capture in the New World._

And there they had been sat, watching the sky change for what felt like months, as the sea rocked the ship forward and onward to the New World. _To what Columbus had called India when he had first found it in 1492._

“It was in July, I believe, that the soldiers came to our village. We knew of what the royals commanded, of course. Everyone knew that if you belonged to the Jewish faith, you had to either convert or leave, or you would be executed for your sins.” Malarkey's voice pulled Skip from his thoughts, him having barely even noticed as his friend had moved to come sit next to him, shoulder leaning against his own. “We hadn't wanted to leave. We had been living in Castile for decades, and my parents were reluctant to leave the farm they had spent so many years building up.”

There was a murmur of _“Understandable”_ from Skip, before he continued. 

“None of us were eager to convert, because we knew much of what was happening was due to those who had converted and not been faithful, and we were afraid we wouldn't be believed.” There was a deep sigh, eyes shifting to the dirty floor as if trying to recall old memories. “So instead we decided to pack up and try to find somewhere else, bringing only what we could carry with us. We were going to split up and meet on the east coast to try and find passage to somewhere safer. They never made it, only I did.” Fingers brushed over where Skip knew he had the key from his old home, the only thing he now had left after that all their belongings had been left in Seville. “Lived on the streets for a bit after that, seeing as I was much too young to work – and technically too young to have travelled alone – and then I ended up in Seville and met you, three years ago. I guess the rest is history.” A small smile flickered across his lips, and for a moment Skip could almost see the young boy who had found himself alone in the world all those years ago. 

Opening his mouth to speak, he found himself interrupted of the sound from metal against metal, and within seconds he was on his feet, urging Malarkey to help him up to the metal bars above them. 

“Hey, remember that plan you had yesterday? Of stealing one of the longboats and some provisions and rowing back to Spain?”

“Yes?” 

“It's still a stupid idea, but I think it's what we will have to go with.”

“But how the hell are you thinking you standing on my shoulders will get us out of here?” There was an annoyed intake of breath as the redhead struggled to keep the other balanced and under the bars, and he didn't feel particularly amused as the other shot him a wide grin. 

“Like this.” A low whistle slipped from his lips as he stretched a hand through the bars. “Come here, buddy, come here. If you give us the keys, we'll give you something yummy to eat.” 

_Malarkey had completely forgotten about the ship dog, who was in charge of the keys._

“Who the hell ever thought it a good idea to give a dog the keys? What if he drop them?” 

_The clanking of the keys falling through the bars and onto the grubby floor only confirmed what he had said._

“I have no clue, but at least we can now get out of here.” 

–

It was only a few minutes later that they were safely up on deck, a longboat ready to be lowered with a few quickly stolen supplies stowed away in the prow, and Skip refusing to leave their escape help behind. 

“Skip, we can't bring a _dog_. Especially not _this_ dog. It's a dog that belongs to _Cortes_. Do you know what he will do to us if he finds out we stole his dog? We will be killed!”

“We will be killed anyway if he catches up for having escaped, so what does it matter?” A hand ran over the dog's head, the animal looking genuinely happy and content with the situation, and not at all like the nuisance Malarkey was trying to make him out to be. “Come on, Mal, look at him.” 

“ _Fine_ , but if he barks and has us discovered, I _will_ throw both of you in the water and let you swim back.” Despite his harsh tone, there was still the hint of a smile as he helped Skip get the dog in the waiting boat. 

_From then on, things weren't as easy..._

–

It took them only a few hours to lose their supplies, and within three days they found themselves exhausted, staring at the fins of passing sharks and the endless blue sky and sea. While their position in the cell of Cortes' ship had then felt like the end, their current position felt even more so, where they now were out in the middle of nowhere. 

“We should probably give the dog a name.” Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Skip was trying his best to keep his voice cheerful as his hand stroke the dog's fur, where it lay panting in the sunlight. “How about Mabarkey?” 

“We're not naming the dog Mabarkey, Skip. No way. Just like we're not naming that big shark with the red mark Masharkey.” _There was a pointed look towards the disappearing fin of a shark that had returned every day to circle them._

“Why not? I think it's perfect, and easy to say, just like your name.” Letting out a small chuckle, Skip turned to the dog, who tiredly raised his head to look back up at him. “Hey, buddy, how do you feel about the name Mabarkey?”

“Skip! _We're not naming the dog Mabarkey!_ ”

“Spoilsport. What should we name him then?”

“I have no idea. How about Dinner? Because that's what he'll become if I don't get off this stupid boat soon.” 

“I thought you didn't eat meat.”

“That's pork, you idiot. Dog meat is fine!”

_Their squabble was interrupted by the dog whimpering._

“Fine, okay, we're not naming him Dinner or Mabarkey.” Skip's sigh of defeat was the best thing Malarkey had heard all day. “How about... Mick? It's easy, it's short and it sounds like a dog's name.”

“Yeah, a very stupid dog.” Letting out a short laugh, Malarkey ran a hand through the fur on the dog's back. “But it's a good name. We should use it. I think it suits him.”

“Mick it is then.” Relaxing back, Skip shot his friend a smile and then drew another breath of the dry, salty air as his eyes shifted back to the endless blue sky. “I guess this will be the last fun we will ever have. Naming a dog.” 

“I suppose so... Still, I guess we did have fun before all of this happened. I mean, back in Spain.”

“You're right. We did have fun. Thank you for that.” There was a hint of a sad smile on both pairs of lips, both of them completely unaware of that the rocking motion of the sea had stopped until the dog jumped out of the boat. 

“You crazy son of a...” Malarkey's voice trailed off as he sat up, realising that the blue sky was suddenly broken off by something else. Something living. “Skip. Skip, there's land. We're on land!”

_He didn't have to say it twice._

“We made it!” Laughter slipped from Skip's lips as the two of them got up, eyes staring in wonder at the sight of an empty beach and trees stretching towards the sky. “I can't believe we made it! We're alive!” 

“ _We're alive!_ ” Unable to contain his happiness, Malarkey grabbed Skip's arm to give it a tight squeeze before he pulled him onto the sand. “We're actually alive!” 

“And I think I know where we are! Because that thing there, it looks like something from the map.” Skip's finger pointing in the direction of a glittering lagoon caused Malarkey's excitement to die down, if so only a little. 

“What do you mean? What map?”

“This map.” Malarkey couldn't even believe his eyes as he watched Skip pull the map they had won back in Seville from the sleeve of his shirt. “The map to El Dorado!”

_“You kept the map?”_

“Of course I did! Do you think I'm stupid?” 

“Why didn't you say anything?” 

“I didn't think I would need to, because I doubted we would actually end up here.” Gesturing to the view before them, Skip glanced down upon the map, before pointing towards the trees. “It's that way. That's the way to El Dorado. It has to be.”

Giving the map a quick once-over, Malarkey sighed deeply, before he gave in. He saw no other options of what they could be doing, stranded on a strange beach. 

“Let's go then. Let's go find El Dorado.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Anything for gold, hey?”

“Yeah, anything for gold!”

**Author's Note:**

> Historical notes: 
> 
> \- Cortes didn't actually sail from Cortes when going to take Mexico, but instead he sailed from Cuba. However, in the Road To El Dorado movie, this is still the city they use, so that's why I used that.  
> \- In 1492, the Spanish rulers of Castile and Aragorn (Fernando and Isabella) decided to expel all Jews from these two regions, as they didn't think those who had converted from Judaism to Catholicism were being faithful enough. This was issued in March, and they had until July 31st to leave or convert, or they would be executed. People were still, however, being killed while trying to leave, because there were rumours Jews had swallowed precious gems or gold, and people therefore kinda just cut them open to get these things.  
> \- Spain wasn't really the place we see it as today, but to make it easier, I decided to use that to refer to it, because that's what they do in the movie. 
> 
> Other things:  
> \- Jewish Malarkey was first introduced by Ed, so I'm kinda just borrowing that idea here.  
> \- Skip still has his German heritage here, so however he ended up in Spain, his parents was still German, even though Germany wasn't actually Germany at this time either.  
> \- I haven't stated an age here, because I kinda wanted them to be the same age as in the show, but seeing as this is set around the beginning of the 1520s, for Malarkey to be 22-23 would have been impossible if he was a young child in 1492. So let's just pretend Cortes either left early, or they're eternally young or something.  
> \- The name Mick is probably a reference only Ed will get, because it's a nod to a fabulous OC of his.


End file.
